Unexpected
by Alrighttt
Summary: Sam's visions escalate from headaches and strange dreams to full on seizures. Unfortunately, these can happen in the most inconvenient moments. How will Sam and Dean adopt, and what trouble could this put them in? Hurt/limp Sam. Concerned/protective Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is my first fanfiction, so please let me know what you think!**

 **Story Summery: Sam's visions escalate from strange dream and headaches to full on seizures. Unfortunately, these can happen in the most inconvenient moments. How will Sam and Dean adapt, and what trouble could this put them in? Hurt/limp Sam. Concerned protective Dean.**

 **Chapter 1:**

Sam thrashes his bed, struggling to open his eyes and emerge from his nightmare. He shoots up from his bed surrounded by the darkness in his room, still unsure if he escaped into reality. However, Dean's sleeping form on the bed next to his own, assures him of his consciousness.

Sam tries to recall his dream. Like the others, it had seemed almost too real. Almost like he was actually there to witness the poor girl's death. He figured they were nothing more than the side affect of having a twisted job like his own. He already constantly sees people die while awake, it's not a surprise that they'd find their way into his dreams as well.

The floor creaks while he pushes himself off the bed to get some Advil. His nightmares, that he's miraculously been able to hide from Dean, are unfortunately followed by the worst migraines. He swallows the Advil dry and returns to his bed, hoping that he'll finally be greeted with some peaceful slumber.

"Rise and shine little Sammy!"

Sam groggily climbs out of his bed to see a gleeful Dean brushing his teeth.

"Big job today," he hollers while walking toward the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste.

Sam was glad for Dean's cocky personality. It helped take his mind off the screams he heard in his dream just hours ago. On top of that, this job they drove here for would be just the distraction he needs. He was ready for the satisfaction of solving another case.

Sam quickly gets dressed and pulls out his computer, ready to begin researching on the latest supernatural occurrences in the isolated city of Marfa, Texas. His head still hurt a bit from last night, but a bit more Advil pills help take care of the problem. Dean pulls up a chair and sits beside him. He notices Sam's recent reliability on the Advil. "Everything ok?" He asks, concerned for his little brother.

"Just a small headache, it's nothing" replies sam brushing him off. He put the pill bottle down and began reading the news article that he pulled up. Every Thursday, one family completely disappears. Cars are still parked, running, yet no family members. So far the Jenkins, Jamesons, Elliots, and Canders have disappeared without a trace. He and Dean had no idea what might be causing this.

"Have you tried calling Bobby?" Asks Dean, while impatiently tapping his fingers on the table.

"He said he'd research more and get back to us," Sam glumly answers.

After more directionless reading, Sam and Dean leave their dusty motel room and set foot to uncover any signs of supernatural activity in the homes of the missing.

"Did you bring the FBI badges? " asks Sam while getting into the Impala.

Dean rolls his eyes. "No, I'm a complete idiot. Now hurry up, I called the Jenkins's neighbors and told them that we would be there for some questions around noon." Sam nodded and buckled his seatbelt.

Best part about being in a small town is almost never having to deal with traffic. The brothers park in front of the home of of Lisa park, who has been a neighbor to the Jenkin family's for 10 years now. Dean starts to get out of his beloved car, when he notices sam rubbing his temples with his eyes closed.

"Sam, you sure youre ok?"

"Fine, Dean"

Dean is not convinced, but let's it go- there will be time to worry about him when they finish this case. They slam their car doors and walk together towards her door. Lisa's house is centered in a field of dead grass a rusty lawn chairs. It looks like no one has cared about her yard for years. At least they did not have to worry about house management, with being on the move all the time. They're about to ring the doorbell when Sam suddenly grabs his head, hoping to stop the sharp blinding pain and collapses on the ground. His head slams into the concrete bellow. Dean helplessly watches his brother's eyes role back and body jerk around uncontrollably. This has never happened before- what was he supposed to do?! Sam continues convulsing on the ground for what felt like a decade to Dean. When it finally ends, Dean reaches down and tries to wake his brother up, frozen with fear. Sam was his responsibility, and if anything happened to him- he would never be able to forgive himself. Maybe he could have prevented this if he had noticed Sam's symptom's earlier, instead of focusing so much on the job. He stares at his brothers pale unconscious face and realizes that he can't fix this on his own. He has to get help.

 **Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think and if I should continue. Sorry for any writing mistakes I might** **have made.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you I'mtheonewhofeelinglost and maxandkiz for your amazing reviews! They meant a lot to me and made me so so happy to read!**

After failing to wake Sam up, Dean gives up and starts banging on Lisa's (the neighbor) door. His knuckles collide with the fragile wooden surface so hard, that he's afraid it might break. But not as afraid of Sam not waking, which causes the thumping on the door to grow louder and more urgent.

Soon enough, an old women with smokey-grey hair and a tattered pink nightgown, opens the door. She glanced at Sam alarmingly with her fatigued eyes, then ushers the strangers in her house.

Dean carefully picks Sam up and throws him over his shoulder, as he follows behind the lady. The only thing he could think about was his brother, how did he let him get to this?

Lisa's house was clustered with furniture and random items. Every step Dean took signaled a loud creak from the floor bellow him, and every piece of furniture was covered with a thick layer of dust. She cleared off some old picture frames from a yellow leather couch, and motioned for Dean to lay Sam down on it.

"What happened?" She asks, her eyes tight with worry.

"I don't know! He just collapsed." And honesty, other that the more recent headaches and excessive intake of Advil, Sam had _seemed_ fine. The idiot was sure good at hiding his pain, Dean thought- almost feeling betrayed that his brother hadn't confined to him earlier about what was going on.

"He needs a hospital," she asserts while reaching for her cellphone.

"Wait!" Dean reaches for her arm and stops her before she starts dialing. If she called the hospital, then the police would get involved- and neither boys could afford the trouble of getting swept back into the FBI's manhunt for them. However, He looks back at Sam's unmoving form, obviously needing the attention of a doctor. Healthy people don't just collapse and start seizing on the floor. But would Sam really want to get help only to be thrown into a prison cell? Dean was beyond conflicted. He frustratedly glanced at his brother and back at the phone. This was a lose-lose situation.

"No, you can't call anyone," he snaps at Lisa. He compromises with having Lisa and him try to help Sam here first, and if nothing seems to work- he'll call an ambulance himself. Lisa seems concerned with his dismissal of emergency help, but thankfully does not ask any questions.

Dean puts his ear near Sam's mouth and checks his breathing. Then, he puts two fingers against Sam's carotid artery and feels for pulse.

Not great, but fine. At least he was still alive. Lisa cleans up the wound on Sam's face, from when his face collided with the ground, and applied the back of her hand against Sam's sweaty forehead . She grabbed a damp cold towel to put on it, hoping to cool down his body temperature.

After that, there was nothing else they could do here. Dean sat on the floor besides Sam, not taking his eyes off him- and waited.

...

Sam wakes up with a dull pain in his head and is engulfed by the stench of dried blood. Even before his eyes open, he knows that he's not in his motel room. He reaches his hand to his face and feels something heavy and damp on his forehead. Where is he? When Sam decides to open his eyes, he is greeted with a jigsawed mess of fuzzy colors and shapes. After a minute of two, he can start to make sense of his surroundings. He finds Dean on the ground next to him, stuck in a restless sleep, and notices an old lady in an uncomfortable slumber on a wooden chair in the same room. This must be her house. How did he get here? Who was this women?

He thinks back to the violent and gory dream that he eluded from. This time, he witnessed the death of 64 year old Paula Shaunkins. No- it's just a dream, Sam reminded himself, the the stranger he dreamt of was never killed- they probably don't even exist. His dreams were miraculously more realistic than before. Sam didn't know how much longer he could take all this pain and sadness.

He painfully reaches his arm out and tapped Dean on the shoulder. Dean bolts up and firmly grabs Sam's arm, but relaxes after realizing who it was.

He smiles brightly, "You're awake! I thought you were gonna die Sam. You had me worried sick! Don't you ever do anything like that again-you hear me?" His usual tough guy personality was no where to be seen, it was obvious how much Sam's condition had troubled him.

Sam was too tired to answer, and just responded with a nod. He felt guilty with how much he had put his brother through. Dean diddnt deserve this constant worry and stress.

 **Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! Sorry for any writing mistakes I might have made.**


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Dean and Sam quickly thanked Lisa, and hurried off back to their hotel room. The car ride was awkward and quite, neither boys sure how to start a conversation. Finally, Dean broke the silence.

"You feeling better Sammy?"

"Yeah, yeah I am," sam hastily answered then looked out the window to his right. There, adults were conversing on the sidewalks, kids were running around and playing. All of them, Sam thought, didn't have to worry about what he knew. They weren't burdened with the darkness of reality. He envied them. Envied their normal lives, normal dreams. He desperately wanted to be out in the world without this weight on his shoulders. But there was nothing he could do about it, his innocence about this life was tarnished since the day his mother was killed, and nothing would ever bring it back. This was how it was supposed to be, he miserably thought.

"Sam! Are you listing?" Sam looked over at Dean indistinctly.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was just saying, maybe we ought to get your umm condition checked out."

"Dean, I don't have a 'condition'. It happened once, won't happen again." Sam rested his head on the window. Great, this is just what he needed. Dean worrying about him every minuet of the day. Exactly what would make this hunt any easier.

"You don't know that Sam. What if it's something like epilepsy or something. You'd have to get medication and stuff. Look, all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to get it checked out." Dean glanced nervously at his brother. This was a long shot. Sam would never agree to see a doctor for anything.

Sure enough, Sam shook his head. "No, Dean." And that was it, for now.

The boys parked the car and walked down the hallway of the motel. Dean took out his key and unlocked the room. It was just as they had left it. Papers scattered on tables and clothes covering the ground.

Sam threw himself on the couch and opened up his laptop.

"We should finish this case before anyone else disappears, I was thinking-"

"Sam, maybe we should worry about you first." Sam glanced at his brother, were they really going to talk about this again?

"Dean, innocent people are disappearing, might be dying for all we know. I said it once and I'll say it again- I'm fine."

Dean sighed in frustration. "You aren't fine Sam. And you know what? I'm not going to do anything until you at least admit that. I've lost too many people. I'm not going to lose you too."

Sam continued researching, "Whatever, Dean. There's nothing to admit."

The brothers stayed in the hotel room for the rest of the day. Dean mainly napping and pestering Sam to go to a doctor, who insisted on staying in the room and researching more on his laptop. All the information he gathered seemed to be useless. He still had no idea what could be causing the disappearances, and Bobby still hadn't returned his call. He surfed the web for another hour or so when he found an article that made his heart drop.

It was about a 64 year old women that was found decapitated in her own home earlier this morning. However, what made it peculiar was that there was no sign of anyone breaking and entering her home. The women's name was Paula Shaunkins. Her picture and description of death were identical to what Sam had saw in his dream last night. Sam felt dizzy and slammed his laptop shut. He was so sure that his dream wasn't real. How could this be possible? Then he was overwhelmed with a feeling of guilt. He should've known. He could have prevented it, helped her. But now it was too late. She was gone, and Sam might as well have killed her himself.

He shook Dean awake, Dean should know about this. As hard as it would be for Sam to tell him, Dean deserved to know about his freakish abilities. Maybe this would even shut him up about taking him to the doctor. Now Sam knew the reason for his random migraines-they were because of the visions. Only now, these visions, were becoming too powerful for his body to handle, which must have been why he started seizing yesterday. Sam had a hard time wrapping his head around this theory, but it was the only one that seemed to make any sense.

Dean lazily opened his eyes, annoyed by the interruption of an amazing dream.

"What do you want?" He groaned, while pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"There's something I need to tell you. It might be hard to believe, but it's true." Sam continued babbling and showed Dean the article about Paula. He shared his theory about the visions with him, which received a look of disbelief.

"Sam, it was probably Deja vu or something. It's late and you're tired. You should just get some sleep." Dean laid down and went back to sleep.

Sam was infuriated with Dean brushing off the importance of this situation. He doesn't understand, he thought. Sam miserably went to his bed, feeling more isolated and alone than ever. Maybe tomorrow Dean would believe him, and maybe Sam would someday be able to forgive himself for allowing that innocent women to die.

...

Soon enough, sleep came to save Sam from the thoughts that were drilling into his skull. The loud silence of the room surrounded him, interrupted every now and then with occasional footsteps from upstairs, or the motor of a car driving down the road.

Sam was struck with the images of a young girl watching rain drops slide down her window. The window opens. A scream is heard. The young girl is pushed out, and falls, with pure terror expressed on her face. Her body thumps on the ground. The rain still falls. Then, it's quiet again. She lays unmoving on the grass below her window. The street sign by her house reads 32 avenue.

Sam's eyes snap open with the vivid dream still playing in his mind. How long has he been sleeping? It had only felt like minuets. He glances to his right and sees Dean still sleeping in the bed on the other side of the room. The world was spinning. Sam runs to the bathroom and vomits in the toilet. The foul taste of it was the least of his concerns. His head was pounding, he could barely stand up.

Then Sam remembered his dream again. He couldn't save Paula, but he had a chance with the young girl he saw minuets ago. Besides, he knew where she was- 32nd avenue was only a half an hour drive from here. If he started driving now he could save her.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam glances again at Dean, debating whether or not to ask for help. No, he decides, Dean thinks he's crazy- he probably would stop Sam from going altogether. Sam quietly grabs the keys and sneaks out of the room towards the parking lot. The small pellets of rain soak him, until he is shielded by the interior of the Impala. Sam looks down at the mud that he imprinted on the floor of Dean's beloved car. Dean is not going to be happy about that, he thought, and powered the engine.

The rain pounds heavily on the hood of the car. Sam drives aimlessly around the city, trying to remember where his vision took place. He was running out of time. Sam's head was still swimming with pain, and it was getting worse. He could feel himself getting weaker, and was having trouble forming coherent thoughts. Why was he driving again? Where was he going? It was like his mind was floating in space. Soon his vision tunnels and his head thumps against the steering wheel.

The tires squeal as the car swerves right, with no one to control it. It speeds up until a tree collides with the vehicle, causing it to flip so many times across the road, that someone watching would have lost count.

Sam's body slams forward with every jerk of the car. His head bashes into the window. If he were awake, the pain would have been beyond excruciating.

The hood crumbles against the road, and shards of glass sprinkle across Sam's unconscious face. The car had no airbags to cushion the crash, and the inside of it would now be stained with Sam's blood.

Then the silence was back. Rain still fell against the broken car and man, that laid in a puddle of blood and water. They stood there, unmoving for hours, until another car drove down the road and reported the crash.

When the paramedics got there, they didn't think that the injured man could possibly be saved.

...

Dean woke up in the middle of the night and had to do a double take when he noticed Sam was not in his bed. He checked the bathroom, closets, everywhere in his tiny motel room- Sam was not there. He hadn't even left a note on the door.

Was he kidnapped? Did a monster get to him?

Dean was going to have to find out soon, so he could save his idiot brother. He went to grab his keys so he can head toward the car, only when he reached for his keys, his hand was met with nothing but air and dust from the counter. _Shoot_. He looked out the window- the Impala was not in the parking spot he had left it in earlier. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Who knows where that moron could have gone.

It was hard for Dean to think with the feeling of uneasiness dominating all his other emotions. What possible reason would Sam have for leaving randomly at this hour. A part of him felt betrayed. Dean was an excellent hunter, he could have helped with whatever Sam was dealing with, and he hadn't ever given Sam a reason not to trust him. Now all he could do was wait for Sam to get back, and give him one hell of a yelling for his stupid, stupid choices. For someone that got into Stanford, That kid did not use his head sometimes.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean waited for minutes, then hours. There was still no sign of Sam. After pacing around his motel room, he decided to wander around town to look for any sign of him. The best part about this case being in a small city was that almost everything was within walking distance away.

Dean walked down empty roads, accompanied by the darkness. Except for a gas station and hospital, there was nothing really around here worth going to. Dean checked the gas station first- no Sam.

He then looked back at the hospital. He doubted Sam would be stupid enough to end up in there. Still, it didn't hurt to check. He opened the door and was overwhelmed with the stench of sanitizer and bleach. The seats in the waiting areas were lined up neatly, and every surface in the hospital was dustless. Vases with flowers sat on glass tables, and pictures of art were framed on the walls. A television played in the room, mesmerizing the eyes of other patients awaiting treatment.

Dean walked up to a young nurse sitting at her desk.

"Was a man brought in here tonight? Mid 20's?"

The nurse sighed and looked up at him with bright blue eyes, "You'll have to be more specific."

Great. With so many different Aliases and fake ID badges, Dean had a hard time keeping track of names. He hesitated for a moment before remembering, "Agent Dante?"

The nurse nodded and checked the system on her computer. Sure enough, a Sam Dante was brought in not too long ago.

"He's in surgery right now. A doctor will come talk to you after. You can wait in the waiting room." She brushed her hair behind her ear and returned to her work.

Dean froze. No part of him actually thought that he would find Sam here.

"What do you mean he's in surgery? What happened?" Dean's loud voice received stares from all across the room, not that he cared.

"It looks like he wasn't brought in after a car accident. I'll update you if I get any new information."

Not the Impala too. It was like getting stabbed twice in the heart. When Sam got better, he was gonna make sure he never forgets this.

It was easier for Dean to be mad at Sam rather than leave his mind vulnerable for worry. If anything happened to Sam, there would be no one to blame but Dean himself. Sure hunting was his job, but more importantly it was to keep Sam safe. It's been that way all his life. Dean couldn't consider the possibility of failing such task.

To the right of Dean was a stack of magazines. He glanced over them for a bit, yet nothing could distract Dean from thinking about his brother hurt and alone. Dean wasn't there when Sam needed him most. He should've left immediately after he noticed Sam was missing.

Finally, after what felt like centuries of waiting, a doctor wandered into the waiting room and was pointed into Dean's direction by the nurse from earlier.

"Sam's out of surgery. He's stable and being transferred to the ICU."

For a moment Dean was relived, Sam was alive, he was going to be okay. After all they've defiantly dealt with more than a littler car accident. Unfortunately, the feeling didn't stay for long. The doctor was not done talking.

"We had to operate to reduce brain swelling and prevent further bleeding. The cause of the collision seems to been because of a seizure. We have specialists going over a CT scan and will update you when we find out what might have triggered it. "

"But he's ok now, right?" Dean desperately asked. He couldn't bear to listen to this any longer.

Dean looked at the doctor hopelessly. The stress of the job has defiantly taken a toll on the doctor's physical appearance. He looked about 40 years old with black/gray hair and dark circles beneath his eyes, conveying his lack of sleep. The Doctor stared back at Dean sympathetically.

"We won't know for sure for a couple of days. We had to place him in a medically induced comma to prevent further damage and give his body a chance to heal itself. With that said, there is a very high chance that he won't wake up at all, and if he does there will definitely be severe brain damage. We inserted a device in surgery that will help monitor the pressure and let us know the level of activity going on in Sam's brain. But I have to warn you, the Sam that wakes up- _if_ he wakes up- won't be the Sam you knew before."

Dean nodded glumly. "Can I see him?" He asked, feeling weak and overwhelmed by his brother's condition. Dean thanked the doctor after receiving the directions, and dazedly walked to Sam's room. He felt detached from life, amen couldn't bear the thought of going through it without Sam.

Dean opened the door- grey and dull like the rest of the hospital. He was not prepared to see what lay behind it. IV's, oxygen tanks, and heart monitors attached to Sam's fragile weak body, pallor than the sheets on the bed. The doctor's words played over and over again in Dean's head, haunting him. Only this couldn't be solved with something as easy as digging up a grave and burning some bones. He had failed his brother. Sam was suffering, Because of a stupid mistake from a stupid decision. Dean was livid. Where was Sam planning on driving to anyways? A destination that would never be reached.

 **I'm obviously not a doctor or anything so the medical stuff in here is probably not factually accurate at all. Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think about it so far. Also sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes I might have made.**


	6. Chapter 6

Dean sat on a wooden chair next to his brother's hospital bed. He refused to let him out of his sight, not that Sam could exactly get up and move either. It's been 3 weeks and Sam has shown no signs of waking up. Some doctors have suggested the possibility of Sam never waking, but Dean silenced them right away. He refused to hear anything negative and continued drowned in his own optimism about Sam's well being. Any day now, he thought, Sam will open his eyes and be in perfect condition. Then they'll walk out and go back to hunting. Yet all the unresolved cases Dean and Sam left behind didn't even matter to Dean. All that mattered was his brother.

For the millionth time Dean tried ringing Bobby. Bobby hasn't picked up for weeks, Dean assumed he was taking care of a serious case with Rufus. So when Dean heard Bobby's voice on the line he was beyond surprised.

"Hello?"

"Bobby! Where have you been? Sam and I have been calling you for weeks."

"Rufus and I have been hunting down some nasty tricksters. Took longer than we thought. Believe it or not the world isn't about just you two idjits. What was so important anyways?"

"It's Sam." Dean had a hard time telling Bobby everything that happened. Guilt engulfed him. All this could have been avoided if Dean had acted differently.

"Hell." Bobby stayed silent for a good minuete. He treated Sam and Dean like his own sons, and was crushed by the news. From the looks of it, Sam was not going to be ok. "Stay there Dean. 'I'll start driving your way."

Dean thanked Bobby and hung up.

Then, he was alone again with nothing but the sound of Sam's heart monitor to fill the silence. Dean practically lived with Sam in the hospital room, leaving only to use the bathroom or occasionally grabbing something to eat. He just couldn't take the chance of not being there when Sam finally awakes.

Bobby arrived roughly two days later. He forced Dean to get cleaned up (with much convincing) and sat with Sam when Dean couldn't. Every now and then, doctors and nurses would check Sam's vitals and the endless machines that kept him alive. When another week passed by, even Bobby started losing hope of Sam getting better. He sat down besides Dean in the gloomy hospital room.

"Dean, maybe we should start thinking about what to do if...if he doesn't wake up."

Dean looked up at Bobby then back at Sam, who was still unconscious in the bed. He felt bad for Bobby-to lose hope so soon, that was nothing but a weakness. He and Sam have gone through worse, getting shot, stabbed, even dying. But they always bounce back. Always.

"He's gonna be fine Bobby."

Bobby did not look convinced. "Look all I'm saying-"

"Bobby. He's fine." Dean just had to cut him off. It was one thing for Bobby to feel so negative, but there was no way he was going to let his brother hear anymore of what Bobby had to say. The doctor said that some patients can still listen to their surroundings while in a comma. Dean wanted Sam to know just how sure he was that he'll wake up.

"You're being unreasonable, Dean."

"No I'm not Bobby. I don't know what you expect from me. He's my brother, and I'm not doing anything until he gets better."

Dean watched Bobby sigh in frustration and leave the room. He leaned over his brother and shook his shoulders. "Come on Sam. I need you. I don't think I can deal with any of this without you." Sam of course didn't answer, still unresponsive in his comma. Dean closed his eyes shut to keep tears from escaping, and rested his forehead on Sam's chest. He felt Sam's chest go up and down with every breath he took. Awake or not, his brother was alive, and for now that was comforting enough for him.


	7. Chapter 7

The man drowsily opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Immediately the foul scent of disinfectant invaded his nose. He stared at the ceiling in a daze, his mind too numb to form coherent thoughts.

Words could not begin to describe the unbearable pain the man felt. After a couple of seconds, he mustered enough strength to lift his head up and look around. His arm was wrapped up in a cast and bruises covered most of his body. He was in what looked like a hospital room. Besides him, he saw a man slumped over in a chair, sleeping rather uncomfortably. He looked around some more. This wasn't right, he thought, he had to get out of here. He pulled out the iv from his arm and attempted to swing his legs out of the bed. Not a good idea- he was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness as his head slammed back against his pillow.

This wasn't _right_ , he thought again. He tried thinking about his past, yet could not recall a single memory. He shut his eyes in a panic and attempted again to think of anything about his life. Nothing. He couldn't even remember his own name. The man looked around once more to find anything that would give him a clue to his identity. But besides the sleeping stranger, the room wasn't filled with anything worth noting. He groaned in frustration.

The stranger in the chair jolted up with the sudden noise. His eyes brightened when he saw him.

"Sam!" The man stood up and warmly embraced Sam. "Thank God", he sighed in relief, "its great to finally see you awake."

Sam, however, did not return the strangers celebratory emoticons.

"Who the hell are you? What am I doing here?"

The man looked up at him, smile fading. "What? It's Dean. Your brother."

Sam's expression however, remained blank. He stared at Dean with no recognition whatsoever.

Dean buzzed for the doctor and waited, watching Sam with concern and disbelief. After an eternity, the doctor knocked on the door and let himself in. He asked Sam a couple of random questions to test his memory (which Sam failed at miserably) and informed him about the accident. Sam nodded at the doctor when appropriate and answered everything politely, but was soon losing the energy to even maintain eye contact. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The next day they got rid of Sam's feeding tube and allowed him to eat regular food. It was tasteless and mushy. Sam felt like he was forcing down dog food and worked hard to make sure he didn't barf it back out. He definitely did not have an appetite for it, but did what he was told. Better eating than arguing.

His brother, Dean. Almost never left the room. A little privacy was unheard of to him. He and another man named Bobby spent most of their time fretting over Sam and talking with the doctor outside the room. None of them spoke much about his memory loss, the accident, or anything about his condition. Which irritated Sam the most.

It was maddening that others knew more about him than himself. He felt like he was simply possessing a body. He couldn't recall any of the stories and experiences that resulted in all the scars and marks etched onto it. Nothing was familiar. He lived in the shadows of the old Sam, who might as well have died in the car accident. Now he was just constantly compared to that idiot. All his memories were ripped away from him. Leaving him nothing. He felt like nothing.

 **Thanks for reading! Sorry for any spelling/grammar/medical mistakes.**


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was still having a hard time knowing how to act around Sam. He was constantly worried about slipping up and accidentally mentioning something about hunting. As strange as it may seem, this amnesia might be a good thing after all. What better way to shield Sam from this horrendous life than to completely erase it?

In a way Sam was lucky. He had no memory of pain, hardship, or loss. No memory of death, sadness, or defeat.

Bobby completely disagreed with him. Told Dean, how it "wasn't his choice to make," and reminded him of all the countless arguments he and Sam have gotten in over that were similar to this. But Dean was stubborn. It just wasn't the right time for Sam to know.

Bobby stayed with them for awhile but had to go on a hunt somewhere East. It sure got a whole lot quieter without him.

Sam slept for basically half the day. When he _was_ up, he barely talked. As much as Dean hated to think it, he missed his old stupid conversations with his brother. Missed his hunting partner. He kept reminding himself that not telling Sam anything was for the best. For once, this was 100% selfless. How could Dean possibly benefit from this? It's what Sam always wanted anyways- to have a normal life and all.

In the afternoon Dean left to grab some lunch and bring it to the hospital room.

"Hey Sammy," hollered Dean while opening the door. He dumped the food on the table and began eating his warm and delicious burger. "I got you some fries," he put the box besides Sam on the bed.

"Not hungry," Sam replied while fiddling with the tv remote. Sam has insisted on keeping the News channel on 24/7. It's as if he wanted to catch up on how terrible the world is.

"You gotta eat Sam."

"I said I'm not hungry Dean."

"Sam the doctor said that-" Sam grabbed the box of fries and threw it on the ground, scattering them around the room.

"No! I told you. " Sam looked at the fries on the floor then returned to watching tv.

The doctor warned Dean that Sam might act differently. That it was normal for patients with TBIs to have aggressive outbursts, abnormal laughing/crying, forgetting words, persistent headaches, and on the list went. But Dean was still unsure of how to handle it. It scared him seeing his brother like this. He sighed and began picking up the fries. When he was done he sat down and finished eating his burger. It was cold. _Great_.

Sam was ready to be discharged from the hospital the next day. Of course he'd have to bring him back weekly for physical therapy and other appointments, but Dean was glad to be done living with him in that mess of a hospital. He missed his crappy motel room. There was a certain familiarity to it that not even a mansion could replace.

Despite much complaining from Sam, the nurses had to push him in a wheelchair to the car. Hospital protocol. Dean helped him get in the passenger seat and started the car. It was weird. Sam looked the same, but could not have been any more different. Dean still felt the urge to drive off with him on a hunt somewhere.

But instead of driving off to go save the day, he drove to the pharmacy and picked up Sam's medicine. The doctor warned Dean that it was still important to make sure Sam doesn't get too worked up over something, the medicine would prevent seizures from occurring- but not completely stop them.

They drove to the motel in silence. What was there to talk about? Dean gripped the wheel and kept his eyes on the road. Sam stared emptily out the window.

Even with Sam here, Dean couldn't help but feel alone.

 **Thanks for reading! Sorry for any spelling/grammar/medical mistakes.**


End file.
